No Expectations
by MMAMi
Summary: A little fic concerning House and Cameron's feelings in the aftermath of Informed Consent, an ending that had to be tampered with. Hameron, lovely Hameron. xx


**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the House Characters, or the hospital or any or the props found within it. Fox and David Shore own them, and they always will... unless they try to sell them at auction and then I'll be there fighting the rest of you off.

Ah-hem. This is a little one-off story as I've been a little stuck for ideas for my original fic, which is sad I know but this popped in my head and I thought I would share it with you. I hope you like it and I hope you could review -it would be nice to hear what you think!

**I couldn't let the ending of Informed Consent ****be left ****alone, and as such this story has major spoiler for that episode. If you haven't seen it, then well... you should**** track someone down with the DVD and watch it**

**I insist.**

Martini xx

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"I'm proud of you"

His hand clenched against her tiny shoulder, her frame had always looks so slight and delicate to him. He'd never thought he would have to touch her, touch her emotionally with the affection like he was doing right that second. But he was, and the feeling was more than a little incredible. Pride in someone was another emotion he'd never believe he would feel, until the unmentionable happened.

Cameron killed someone. Intentionally

She sat in the chapel, somewhere where two atheists should not spend most of their free time in, but they did, and cried. Well technically she wasn't crying at that very second, but her eyes were more than a little puffy and her cheeks had ballooned with a tomato like shade of red. She was lost in a world unfamiliar to the one she'd been brought up in, and this was another harsh reality check to remind her that life wasn't filled with flowers, puppies and candy.

Already her life had been tortured by losing a loved one. Here she was experiencing death again, and she'd initiated the stopping of the heart. She had blood on her hands that no length of cleaning would remove. He knew she probably wouldn't recover from this, and the Cameron he had known before was not the one who would arrive to work tomorrow.

He squeezed her shoulder again and this time she leaned into his hold. A sniff of pure despair echoed in the empty room and his stomach flipped. He should never have let it happen, and by god –that was clearly not the irony he wanted to be promoting at that second- he wouldn't let it happen again. No more death, his tiny duckling should never have to experience forced euthanasia again.

He would make Chase perform the godly task.

House rolled his eyes at his chosen words before removing his arm. He needed coffee, and it would have to be a strong one that put some fire back into his eyes.

"Wait," she murmured, so quietly at first that House wasn't sure any words had been spoken. But then she turned her head and looked at him. They made eye contact for the longest of times, each sending mixed messages back and forth. Neither spoke, even when Cameron returned to looking ahead. House made his decision then and stepped forwards, across her and sat down in the same pew. It was then she began to cry once more causing House feel the strong sense of guilt throb through his veins. Then she composed herself enough to speak once more. "Did, did it feel like this when you first did it?"

"I don't honestly remember much," he mused in the same quiet tone she had spoken in. "I drank enough to blotch it out of my mind." He was kind of hoping that the same scene would occur here. But he knew that Cameron didn't want to really do that. She didn't want to forget, she would grieve.

"So you didn't sit and think that perhaps if you had done something differently, you may never have had to fill a syringe with a deadly dose of Morphine?"

"I tried not too" She looked at him, a used tissue crumpled in her hand waiting to wipe the tears from her eyes. She let the droplets linger while she spoke.

"You tried?" House shook his head and looked at the front of the chapel.

"You do not need to have regrets Cameron, this was the best option for him. You did the right thing."

"I killed someone!" She said in a half-shout before quickly blowing her nose. House inwardly cringed at the cross-contamination that was happening on the tissue.

"You did the right thing."

"So that's okay then, is it?" she replied waiting for him to look at her. "Death is alright if it's the right choice on that occasion?" House felt the best way for Cameron to deal was with the pain was to get angry, so be it if she had to be angry at him.

"Yes" Cameron seemed to half-sigh, half growl before clenching her fists in anger. But then it subsided. The anger left her body as quickly as it came. House already spotted her change of emotion and frowned. So much for that tactic. "We all have to do things we don't want to, and although you didn't want to do this you knew that it was the better alternative to what he had to look forward too."

"It isn't right; I've finished someone's life for them."

"Cameron," House said himself teetering on the brink of snapping. "You did what was right."

"Right," she said softly. "I should be happy with that. Death is insignificant when compared to the idealistic belief that all things right are good."

"I'm not saying that." He disliked they way this was going. "Do you need the reassurance that what you did was the best possible reaction to his circumstances? Do you need that?" The pair sat silently some more before House's leg began to ache from the position he was in, and he stood up abruptly. "I need a coffee, and you shall make it." She looked at him with a painful stare.

"I will, will I?"

"And we shall go out on to the balcony and resolve your issue," he flung his hand around theatrically. "I'm not having you like this for the rest of your career."

"It's all a game to you, isn't it?" she said loudly before standing and hurrying off to the door. What she did not need that moment was his attitude. She needed some relief.

"Cameron," he growled before limping after her, down the aisle and towards the entrance. She stepped around the slightly open door and managed to run along the next balcony towards the lifts. "Cameron!" he repeated; this time in front of a crowd of doctors, nurses and other co-workers. They watched as she turned, still red and teary-eyed and looked at him. She did not move until an empty elevator arrived and they both stepped in.

Closed doors enabled him to talk once more. She noticed they were not heading to the diagnostics floor.

"You were expecting me to act any differently?" He asked softly, watching her frail state edge towards the corner of the lift. She leant against the wall and held the bar with her left hand. The right still held the tissue and hung by her side. He watched her look at the floor and shrug.

"I thought..." she stopped talking and shook her head. "I thought wrong."

The door opened and she stared out onto the empty corridor; the top floor characteristically quiet. He limped off and did not pause in his step when she lingered for a moment inside the box before following. By the time they had reached the staircase they were walking in stride. The next few moments of climbing were quiet too, until the fire escape door was flung open and House breathed a sigh of relief.

"Finally," he said loudly, taking in the early morning air and view. Cameron followed with little amount of enthusiasm.

"Why do you come up here?"

"To think." He replied. "To think and to watch. To forget the problems of downstairs. To get lost."

"You like being missing?" She asked softly while joining him as he lent against the dwarf wall.

"It's nice to be alone."

"You're always alone." She stated, but with the hint of a smile. She already looked brighter.

"Some people would say that was a negative thing to be."

"And you, what would you say?" House turned and faced her, reading her body that he knew so well.

"I would say that being alone can be an excellent thing. You have no expectations to live up to. You upset no one but yourself."

"True friends do not judge you if you make a mistake." She replied. "You are, I assume, human after all and humans make mistakes."

"When did this conversation turn to being about me?"

"When you brought me up here. This is your place to 'get lost' after all."

"Fine." He muttered looking back out onto Princeton. "Next time we stay in the chapel, it was _all _about you then." He wondered about what she had said. "You're a liar if you said friends don't judge. Everyone does, just friends lie about it when you confront them. People who hate you are more honest."

"You are such a pessimist." She replied with a little more confidence that she thought she had. "Do you ever enjoy the moment, or do you have to analyse every detail?"

"I enjoy analysing every detail." He placed his cane against the wall and rested both of his hands on the brick, letting his back arch a little so he could take some weight of his leg. Regretfully he changed topic. "People will judge you for your actions, and some of those people who've never had to experience it will idiotically say you've done wrong. You weren't choosing if someone lives or dies, you were choosing if someone dies painfully now or not and soon. You stopped someone from living through a great deal of pain and, trust me, it isn't a pleasant experience." He looked at her again, both their eyes looking at one another. "You did the right thing."

Cameron slowly nodded before watching a group of children play on the grass down below.

"Life goes on"

"Life goes on"

The sound of traffic stopping and starting echoed in the distance as they stood feeling time tick by. House noticed her body shift closer to his, but not so they were touching just so their shadows mingled and became one. He found the image quiet comforting, the knowledge that the little duckling found refuge in his silhouette. She spoke down as if not really wanting him to here.

"When I watched the flat line appear on the screen I felt nothing. It was a procedure that I was performing, and yet by doing it I had stopped someone from living. The room was so cold when I pulled off my gloves that I couldn't stay, and then it hit me. I'd done what I resented you from doing earlier, I gone against everything I had said. Everywhere I walked was cold, dark there was no one. I felt pretty pathetic arriving in the Chapel but it was the only place which was light. An atheist finding solace in a Chapel," she chuckled dryly. "But I felt so alone."

"You aren't alone Cameron," he replied unsteadily while feeling his stomach twist and heart burn in his chest from the rate it was beating. Emotions were more than really annoying in these circumstances.

She couldn't help but laugh.

"You aren't going to declare your underlying love to me now, are you?" His mouth twisted and he too chuckled before looking away.

"I'm not, no." He spoke with a hint of surprise himself. "You want a love sick puppy that'll follow you around, go find Chase."

"Don't you think if I wanted Chase I would have him by now?" House found this amusing.

"Well aren't you full of yourself." He paused. "I'm not fun, I drink a lot, have bouts of depression and, if you haven't noticed, I abuse drugs... a little, tiny, tiny bit of abuse." She smiled at his awkwardness and smiled.

"I've never asked you for anything, House,"

"That's not true; you're asking me to have a relationship with you."

"I'm not asking you that at all, you were the one to bring it up." She shrugged. "Not that I don't like where this is going." In a moment of spontaneity he lent forwards and pressed his lips against her temple, feeling her body shudder. He couldn't help but inhale the flowery scent that surrounded her and see her eyes shut.

"You think you can really be in a relationship with no expectations?"

"I'll enjoy the moment and forget to analyse."

"Likewise, I guess," he replied with a smile. She lent forwards clumsily and embraced him, quickly feeling his hands wrap round her. She couldn't help but think that the events of the morning felt a long time ago.

And as he held her, the warmth of her body pressed closely against his and her fingers tightly gripping around his torso, he smiled. The circumstances of how their shadows collided would probably never be spoken of again, and he hoped that a similar ordeal will never occur between them. But he did wonder what the future could hold for two people, so mismatched in type, who found each other through the death of a man who had little in common with them.

But, by god, the future looked good.

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Would you mind taking the time to review? I would love to hear what you think! Martini xx 


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